


Home Is What We Make Of It

by rowaning



Series: Hope and Bards [1]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Unrequited Love, canonically asexual character, minimal editing i live like stephen king, not nearly as upsetting as my previous rqg fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28643505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowaning/pseuds/rowaning
Summary: After his original team vanishes without a trace, Oscar Wilde is forced to recruit anyone he can trust to continue their work. When he found Zolf Smith once again, he never could have guessed how close they would become.A story about different ways of loving people, about fear and frustration, and about understanding through communication.
Relationships: Commander James Barnes & Howard Carter & Zolf Smith & Oscar Wilde, Commander James Barnes & Howard Carter (Rusty Quill Gaming), Commander James Barnes & Oscar Wilde (Rusty Quill Gaming), Commander James Barnes & Zolf Smith, Howard Carter & Oscar Wilde (Rusty Quill Gaming), Howard Carter & Zolf Smith, Zolf Smith & Oscar Wilde
Series: Hope and Bards [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108466
Comments: 58
Kudos: 19





	1. In Pursuit of Something, Probably

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I can't do puns. I'm sorry but I just can't. Please don't yell at me for punless Oscar Wilde. Unless you want to edit a bunch of puns into my next fic, which would be pretty cool.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oscar Wilde finds Zolf during his investigation into the metal squids and presents him with an offer.

**Zolf**

Spain was beautiful this time of year. Or so Zolf had been told. He sat atop a cliff, overlooking the churning angry sea below as torrential rain pounded into his face. It didn’t soak through his oiled coat. It did, however, trickle down the back of his neck from where it had been trapped in his hair. The rain was freezing, and the scene was quite unwelcome to any land-walking life, and probably most sea creatures as well.

Zolf sighed, and turned his wheelchair back towards the muddy path that had led him here. Until he could charter a rowboat, there was no way of searching for the mysterious metal tentacles he was pursuing. Visibility off the cliff was barely more than 10 feet, and there’s nothing a good spyglass could do about that.

* * *

The trip back to the inn Zolf was staying in was uneventful. He’d become quite good at navigating the wheelchair on rocky, muddy paths, and had even had some modifications done to the wheels to make it a bit easier. Couldn’t take it up anything steep, but he managed as best he could. The bartender grimaced as he came in, tracking mud and water across the floor.

“If you don’t mind waiting a moment, Mr. Smith, the boy will assist you.”

The boy in question was a human about 14 years old. His name was Jameson, although the bartender rarely used it, and he earned a small amount of coin helping around the inn. His duties since Zolf’s arrival had included bringing over towels to clean the mud off of Zolf’s wheelchair so he could enter the building without leaving a mess.

“Oi, Mr. Smith! Brought an extra one for you, you look right drenched!”

Jameson bounded over to Zolf, handed him a towel, and immediately began clearing the muck from Zolf’s tires. He had to hand it to the kid, he’d only been here three days but Jameson had this down to a science. Wipe the tops, roll forwards, wipe again, then send Zolf on his way and mop up the short tracks in the doorway. He was a good kid, eager, and Zolf liked him. He reminded him of Sasha a little bit.

Jameson finished up and gestured Zolf into the room with a comical bow.

“Thanks kid. Here.”

Zolf flipped him a gold piece. The innkeeper wasn’t fond of him tipping the kid, but Zolf wasn’t one to care what the innkeeper was fond of. Jameson flashed a lopsided grin, and thanked Zolf, then pocketed the coin and dashed off. He was always in a hurry, that one. Zolf had half a mind to tell him to slow down, enjoy life while you can, but he figured that the kid had a right to spend his youthful energy however he wanted. He smiled to himself, watching the kid disappear into the back corridors of the inn and remembering another young human dashing around all the time.

With a contented sigh, Zolf wheeled himself over to his regular table. All of the tables in the bar were accessible once a few chairs were moved around, but this one had been left chairless for him by the innkeeper. He may not have been a particularly kind man, but he served his customers well. Zolf pulled up to his table and called out to the bar.

“Hey, Dan! What’ve you got today?” he yelled to the bartender.

“Lamb. Some merchant got stranded and had to sell his wares in town, so the boss bought up a decent chunk of his stock.”

The bartender shouted something in Spanish through the window into the kitchen, and a few moments later brought Zolf a bowl of lamb stew and a mug of ale.

“Soup’s up, Mr. Smith.” He set the bowl down, then leaned closer to Zolf and spoke in a low voice. “There’s someone here looking for you. I told him we don’t want any trouble and he said he wasn’t here to make any, but I know you’ve been cagey about what you’re doing here and we can have him removed, if you need.”

Zolf listened, slightly thrown. Who would be looking for him here? The only person who knew he was in Spain was Barnes, and last Zolf had heard Barnes was in Greece. For that matter, who would be looking for him at all? The cult of Poseidon, maybe? He’d cut ties with them in a rather... unofficial manner. Maybe they were after him for back-dues or something. Maybe someone from his old team. A spot of hope began to rise in Zolf’s chest. It could be Sasha and Hamid, he could finally see them again.

“It’s fine, I’ll let you know if there’s any problems. Thank you.” Zolf replied to the bartender.

He nodded and went over to a table on the far side of the room, speaking quietly to a figure in a fur coat. The figure stood and moved towards Zolf. Too tall to be Hamid, too fancy to be Sasha. Too thin to be Bertie, thank the gods. The figure approached and swept his bangs back in a gesture that was all too familiar.

Oscar Wilde pulled a chair up to Zolf’s table and sat down.

“Hello Zolf. It’s been a while.”

Wilde looked different than Zolf remembered. His hair was shorter, though still combed neatly. His face seemed more angular, maybe slightly gaunt, and his makeup was slightly uneven and not doing a very good job of concealing the dark circles under his eyes. He scanned Zolf, noting the wheelchair and furrowing his brows slightly at the absence of the driftwood pendant he used to wear.

“Right. What are you doing here then?” Zolf asked with a frown. He might have actually preferred paying back-dues to the Poseidon lot.

“I’m in a bit of a difficult situation, and I need your help, if you’re willing.”

For once Wilde seemed... humble. He wasn’t nearly as ostentatious as last time Zolf had seen him, and the fact that he’d chased Zolf town to an obscure fishing town in Spain of all places implied that his request for help was genuine. Zolf leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, still slightly suspicious of Wilde’s presence.

“Help with what?” he asked.

Wilde glanced around the bar, then lowered his voice.

“Help with continuing the investigation into the simulacrum. I need people who are capable and trustworthy, and those are in short supply these days.”

“I’m flattered. Wait, why do you need people? Aren’t Hamid and Sasha doing that?”

Wilde’s face dropped. He regained his composure quickly, but Zolf had seen the pain in his eyes.

“Hamid and Sasha are... They’re gone. I can tell you what I know but I’m acting on the assumption that they won’t be coming back.”

Now it was Zolf’s face that dropped. He’d been hoping to see them again someday, that maybe once the world was a bit less of a mess, once he was a bit less of a mess, he could find them again. But now they were gone, and he hadn’t given them the goodbye they deserved.

Zolf wiped away the tears that had started forming in his eyes and looked down at his stew. He’d lost his appetite, but he couldn’t face Wilde right now.

“Zolf, I- I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to be like this.” Wilde pats a hand awkwardly on Zolf’s shoulder, then quickly removes it. “Look, you don’t have to commit to anything now. I can find a room in town and give you a few days to decide-”

“No.” Zolf cut Wilde off, finally looking up from his bowl.

“I see. Um, I’ll be leaving, then.”

Wilde tried to rearrange his clearly disappointed face into a smile, only managing a sort of frozen half-grimace. As he made to stand up, Zolf reached out and grabbed his arm.

“No, what I mean is; you don’t need to wait. I’ve made my decision.”

Wilde tilted his head, confused.

“I’m coming with you. Someone’s got to keep your sorry arse out of trouble. When do we leave?”

The confusion lingered on Wilde’s face for a moment before being replaced by a genuine smile.

“Whenever you’re ready. We’ll have to take a carriage inland, and I’ll charter a gyrocopter from there. Have you ever been to Japan?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, trying to figure out where Wilde would have found Zolf: Oh wait I don't care about things actually making sense *throws dart* unnamed fishing village in Spain it is.


	2. Same Job, Different Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zolf gets a tour of the inn on Okinoshima.

**Zolf**

Japan was like nothing Zolf had ever seen, and he had seen quite a lot of the world during his various adventures at sea. The architecture and the language were unfamiliar but oddly welcoming, and the soft mist that hung in the air in the morning was captivating.

Wilde had brought him to an inn on an island called Okinoshima. It was constructed in the style he’d learned to recognize during their travels from the mainland, with paper walls and sliding doors. Wilde explained that he had purchased the inn from the owner and made several modifications, making it a front for his base of operations.

Zolf was given a room to sleep and keep his things in, and Wilde gave him a quick tour. His own room was mostly taken up by a desk filled with paperwork, and a bed filled with even more paperwork. It didn’t seem slept in, but Zolf chalked that up to Wilde having been away looking for him. Wilde’s room had no other furniture in it, aside from a desk chair. Which was reasonable, because nothing else would fit in the small space.

There were a few other bedrooms in the section of the inn that Wilde had settled down in. Most of them were empty or being used for storage, except for one that was locked. Wilde pointed it out to Zolf as he guided the cleric through the building.

“That’s Carter’s room. He should be back from his supply run in a few days. Don’t go in there. He’s probably trapped the door, and also it’s a mess.”

Wilde’s voice was full of disdain, the first sign Zolf had heard of the man he used to know. He gave a nod, and they continued the tour. After a quick wheel around the grounds, during which Wilde had a quick discussion with the innkeeper in Japanese about putting in a stone path for ease of access, they returned to the central area of the inn.

“Not a bad place you’ve got here, Wilde. Could use a bit more personality if you ask me.”

Zolf wiggled an eyebrow at Wilde. The man’s bedroom had been bare of any decoration, filled with paperwork and the minimum amount of furniture required for a home office. Wilde gave him an unimpressed look, then moved towards a cabinet on the far wall.

“Don’t go judging a book by its cover. Besides, I saved the best for last.”

Wilde tilted his head at Zolf with a smirk, and with a flamboyant gesture, quite reminiscent of the man Zolf had met in London, he flipped a hidden switch on the shelf and the secret door swung open, revealing stone steps descending below the inn.

“Of course, I can’t exactly show you what’s down there,” said Wilde, gesturing at Zolf’s wheelchair. “But I’ll explain everything, and I’ll show you the designs if you’re interested.”

Wilde was clearly pleased with his grand reveal, and doing a good job of hiding how disappointed he was that he didn’t get to show off further.

“Here, hold on a moment. I’ve got something for this.” said Zolf.

He closed his his eyes, summoning the magic that he was still surprised he possessed. After a moment of concentration, he snapped his fingers and a floating disk appeared, hovering in the air a few feet above ground. Wilde looked stunned for a moment, then gave an impressed whistle.

“This can get me up and down stairs, as long as someone’s pushing it or I’ve got a way to pull myself along. I can’t keep it going for longer than about half an hour though, which is why I’ve got the wheels.”

Zolf manoeuvred himself so the disc was in front of him.

“Eh, Wilde? Mind giving me a hand? It’s been a while since I tried to do this and I don’t want to fall on my face.”

Zolf asked the question with feigned nonchalance. He definitely did not want to admit that he’d never managed to haul himself from chair to disc without faceplanting. It was hard, ok? He had good upper body strength but the height difference made the balance all wrong. Wilde looked a bit trepidatious, but assisted him nonetheless.

It took a few tries to transfer Zolf from his chair to the disc. Zolf explained to Wilde how to wrap his arms around Zolf’s waist while he held his shoulders and lift with his legs. Wilde tried, he really did, but physical strength was definitely not one of the bard’s strengths. After finally managing to haul Zolf onto the disc, he had to lean against the wall for a moment, red faced and breathing heavily.

“You should try carrying all those papers instead of just writing on them all the time.” Zolf said, giving Wilde a cheeky grin.

The bard glared at him as he caught his breath, before straightening and replacing his tie.

“I’d say you need to lose weight but I’m afraid there wouldn’t be any of you left.”

It sounded like the old Wilde. Looked like him too, self satisfied smirk and all. Until his face dropped once he realized what he’d said, and Zolf remembered who else there wasn’t anything left of.

Wilde composed himself, running his fingers through his bangs. He did that quite often, Zolf noticed. He moved behind Zolf’s disc to guide it into the cellar.

“Shall we?”

“Are you going to stand there and talk or are you going to show me your super secret basement?”

Zolf heard Wilde chuckle behind him, and they descended the stairs.

The cellar had been divided into two sections. The first section, where the stairs let out, was empty save for a stool and a short table. The walls and floor were stone and there were no windows. Wilde lit a torch, illuminating the room. The second section was separated from the first with soot blackened metal bars. There was a door that could be locked, a slot that food could be passed through, and a fine mesh filling the gaps between the bars. The walls of the interior of the cell were also soot blackened, and there were seams on the ceiling indicating a trap door with a hidden mechanism.

Wilde tapped on the bars with a pen and a metallic sound echoed through the tiny room.

“Adamantine. The entire cell is made out of it. And imbibed with a powerful anti magic field.” He glanced back at Zolf. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ve got a creepy dungeon in your basement.”

It was impressively made. Probably the most secure cell Zolf had ever seen, although he knew what someone with the right tools and decent lockpicking skills could do and he doubted it was perfectly inescapable. But there was one thing Zolf found rather confusing.

“Wilde, why do you have a creepy dungeon in your basement?”

“Oh yes, explanations.” Wilde nodded, as if that extremely important detail had simply slipped his mind. “It’s purpose is twofold. Obviously, it’s a holding cell. When I split off from the Meritocracy I had no idea who I could trust. I needed somewhere to keep any potential enemies, somewhere I could keep tabs on them.”

“Right.” Zolf just nodded, brows slightly furrowed.

No wonder Wilde had changed so much, if something had happened to make him paranoid enough to build his own magic proof holding cell.

“What’s the second purpose?”

“Protection.” Wilde’s expression shifted. More serious, but also somewhat far away. “The enemy that we’re up against has considerable magical force at their disposal. They can curse people from a distance and maintain that curse despite any attempts to break it. As far as I know, the only defence is magic-nullifying materials.”

“I don’t know much about arcane casting, but that sounds pretty far-fetched.”

Zolf looked at Wilde, trying to find some trace of humour in his expression. Extremely weird humour, that wasn’t actually funny. Instead he saw the flashes of pain that the bard couldn’t quite keep out of his eyes.

“Trust me Zolf, it’s possible.”

Wilde sat in the stool, staring into the cell. Zolf pulled himself along the wall to hover next to him and rested a hand on the man’s shoulder. It was a few moments before he spoke again.

“I know it’s possible because I’m the one they were targeting.” Wilde’s voice broke slightly. “I came very, very close to dying. And I’m going to make sure that does not happen to any member of my team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm convinced that the holding cell is also an anti mind control bunker because Wilde is traumatized and paranoid.


	3. Recent Histories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pasts are revealed and tales are told.

**Zolf**

Wilde told Zolf the whole story after they returned upstairs. He’d wheeled his chair into Wilde’s office and the bard had cleared a section of his desk so they could have tea, before explaining the events that had occurred since Zolf had seen him last.

Wilde hadn’t gotten out of Paris before Guivres destroyed Eiffel’s Folly. He had the scars on his back, hidden beneath his high collared shirt, to prove it. Zolf tried to apologize for leaving him behind, but he just waved it off. If there hadn’t been so many people fighting in the streets he would have been fine, he said.

After Paris, he began having nightmares. He didn’t go into detail about them, and the look on his face made Zolf reconsider asking. It had taken him several days to get to Prague, what with all of Europe’s computational infrastructure gone. By the time he’d arrived, Kafka had already been defeated and the Cult of Mars was on their way to storm the university. Inconsistencies had started to pop up in the Meritocratic Forces, orders that didn’t seem right, contradictions on contradictions. He hadn’t seen the patterns at first, and the nightmares had gotten so bad that he stopped sleeping entirely.

In Cairo, things had only gotten worse. The Meritocratic offices were a mess, people who were usually reliable were impossible to find and the chain of command seemed to be breaking down. His team, which now consisted of Hamid, Sasha, and two new members named Grizzop and Azu, had been successful in both bringing Sasha back to life and finding Tesla’s vault, despite interference from the Cult of Hades. And Wilde’s health had deteriorated massively. He told Zolf about the hallucinations that had started to follow him, how even if he took a sleeping potion the nightmares forced him awake a few minutes later.

Then Wilde told him about Damascus. About the factory full of simulacra and great monstrous beasts. About Apophis incinerating the factory, Wilde and his team inspecting the rubble, Wilde being unable to hide how much of a mess he actually was anymore.

The last time he saw Hamid, Sasha, and Azu, they had crawled into a pipe after telling him to take better care of himself. Wilde had smiled sadly as he said that, the bittersweet memory showing itself on his face. And then he told Zolf about returning to Damascus, and how everything had just faded away, like the dying light of sunset.

It was the first time Zolf had seen Wilde cry. And the bard didn’t even cast a Prestidigitation to hide his tears. He just sat there, staring into a space a bit to the left of Zolf’s head with tear tracks running down his face.

They sat in silence for a moment, before Wilde swallowed, cleared his throat, and continued. He’d been woken up by Grizzop, the goblin paladin of Artemis that Hamid had hired in Prague. Wilde had no idea how close to death he’d been, but Grizzop had told him it had taken several healing spells just to get him conscious. The paladin had told him about the Cult of Hades infiltrating the Meritocracy and practically carried Wilde to the local temple of Artemis once he realized just how damaged the bard was. A cleric had tried to heal him, tried to put him to sleep, and the world had almost faded out again when Grizzop had figured out that someone was cursing him. They’d put a set of anti-magic cuffs on him and placed him in one of the temple’s anti-magic cells, and the hallucinations lost their edge and he could sleep again.

At this point, Wilde rolled up his pant leg to show Zolf the cuffs still looped around his ankle. There were some raw marks around the edges where they had chafed after being worn for so long. Well, that explained a lot. Like the large number of hairstyling products in the shared bathroom and the fact that Zolf hadn’t seen Wilde cast a single spell since showing up in Spain.

He kept going. Grizzop had left for Rome with help from the Harlequins and Wilde had cut ties with the Meritocrats and gone off the grid. He’d made his way to Japan and established this base, and started scouting for a backup team. Carter had been picked up a couple of weeks later in Cairo after escaping prison once again, and he’d started tracking Zolf down when Einstein had shown up to be the bearer of bad news. The team had entered a broken Gate spell in Rome and hadn’t come back after a month. Wilde had moved forward under the assumption that they were all dead, and he would have to keep the investigation going on his own.

“And now you’re caught up to the present. Any questions?”

Zolf just shook his head. Wilde looked exhausted, he’d spent the better part of a day laying it all out. His tea was sitting on the table, the cup filled with cold liquid. Zolf took the cup and his own empty one, setting the tray on his lap and turning towards the door.

“Um. Thanks for telling me all that. You should get some rest, its been a long day. I’ll tell you what I’ve been up to tomorrow.” Zolf wheeled out of Wilde’s room, stopped and wheeled back in. “And eat something. You look like if a skeleton had a fight with a peacock and lost.”

Wilde glanced down at his brightly coloured clothes and chuckled.

“I’ll do that. One more thing before you go, Zolf.”

“Yeah?”

“If you start having nightmares that seem... I’m not sure how best to describe it. That seem wrong, or sharp, or like someone’s trying to get into your head, then you have to let me know.” Wilde leaned towards Zolf, his face completely serious.

“I’ll do that. Unlike a certain hypocrite I know.”

Wilde’s jaw dropped and he sat back in his chair. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly offended but at a loss for words. Zolf wheeled back around the desk and punched him in the arm, just hard enough to hurt.

“If you ever pull an idiotic stunt like that on me I’ll resurrect your sorry arse, then drown you in a bucket, then resurrect you again.”

Wilde was still gaping at him. Zolf gave him the brightest grin he could pull off, patted him on the shoulder, then wheeled out of the room without another word.

* * *

**Wilde**

Over the next few days, Zolf told Wilde about his travels. He’d join Wilde for meals in his office and talk while the bard listened.

Zolf told him about the airship ride to Prague and his argument with Bertie, and how he left the mercenary company because of it. He told him about his crisis of faith, how he’d left Poseidon behind and expected to lose his magic. How he hadn’t lost his magic but had lost his water legs, and had to adapt to his newest mobility issues.

He told Wilde about how he’d drifted for a bit before joining up with the Harlequins as a freelancer and started investigating the strange weather phenomena happening on all of the coasts of Europe and the Mediterranean. He showed him a few sketches of metal tentacles rising from the waves and explained that he’d been chasing these... whatever they were, for the past month.

It was oddly comfortable, having Zolf with him. The dwarf let him work while he talked, and he found it surprisingly easy to split his attention between his papers and the dwarf’s tales. It was nice, having a familiar face around. Slightly annoying when the dwarf stared at the dark circles under his eyes and raised his eyebrows, before smacking him on the arm telling him to get some sleep. Talking about the curse had lifted a weight off of his shoulders but he was still quite unused to the idea of someone taking any interest in his wellbeing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This indirectly references one of my other fanfics: 'Paris is Burning'. Honestly the majority of the fanfics I write for RQG are going to be within a single connected headcanon, maybe with a few exceptions.


	4. Archaeologists and Anarchy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zolf meets Howard Carter and gets adjusted to living with his new roommates.

**Wilde**

Carter came back the third day after Zolf and Wilde had arrived. He’d been sent to Cairo to ‘recover’ copies of Wilde’s old paperwork. Some of the mess from Tesla’s vault had been left there, and they were running thin on leads.

He breezed into Wilde’s office and dropped a bag of holding on his desk with a carefree gesture that nearly sent all of his neatly organized piles flying, then did a messy twirl around the desk, gave Wilde a peck on the cheek and dramatically flung himself onto Wilde’s bed. That time he did send all of the piles flying.

“Brought you a gift, darling!” Carter rearranged himself and was giving Wilde a shit-eating grin. Then he finally seemed to register that someone else was in the room, and his attention focused squarely on Zolf. “Ooh, who’s this?”

Wilde gave a deep sigh and dropped his head into his hands. Without looking up he gave a vague wave between his two... coworkers.

“Zolf, Carter. Carter, Zolf. He’s the one I was looking for in Western Europe.”

“Carter.” Zolf sounded like he was scowling, which was the expected response any time Howard Carter entered a room. “Are you sleeping with him?”

“He wishes. Alas, our dear Oscar has not fallen prey to my _devastating_ charms.”

Gods, Carter was annoying.

“No, I’m not. He’s just... affectionate, I suppose.” Wilde said, sitting up and pushing his bangs out of his face. Carter was batting his eyelashes at Zolf in what was perhaps the least sexy way possible, and Zolf looked torn between confusion and hysterical laughter.

“Right then. If you try that on me, I’ll drown you in a bucket.”

Wilde suppressed a snicker at Zolf’s threat, remembering cold water pouring over his head in the lobby of La Triomphe. Carter went pale, then nodded.

“Gotcha. Boundary noted. Anything else I should know?”

“Ok, both of you out.” Wilde stood, gesturing for Carter to get off of his bed. “You can get to know each other elsewhere while I clean up this mess.”

Carter pouted a bit but Zolf grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room, leaving Wilde alone. There were papers all over the floor, and they had been in such nice piles. Wilde sighed and began to pick up sheets and sort them. He should really get some kind of filing cabinet.

* * *

**Zolf**

Days went by, then weeks, and Zolf settled into this strange new world Wilde and Carter were living in. He took excursions investigating leads into the simulacrum and the weather, sometimes with one of his... companions?- and sometimes alone. He’d mentioned Barnes to Wilde, and he had begun looking into whether the commander was trustworthy.

They’d managed to find Zolf a pair of mechanical legs during one of those excursions, from a prosthetic engineer they’d been looking into in relation to the simulacrum. It was nothing like having flesh or water legs. The joints didn’t quite turn far enough and the reaction time was slightly off, enough that he couldn’t sprint. But they were functional and he was glad to have them. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed being able to walk on stairs.

* * *

Evenings at the inn were usually spent playing cards and drinking. Well, Zolf and Carter drank. Wilde refused when they offered, saying he preferred to keep his senses about him. Carter was a sloppy drunk, and his casually affectionate nature made those late nights spent gambling pebbles from the back garden considerably more intimate than Zolf was used to. Once he’d made it clear that he was absolutely not interested, had the whole asexuality conversation with Wilde and Carter, Carter had backed off slightly. But what with living under the same roof and constantly being around each other, Zolf got used to Carter’s clingy nature.

One such evening, a few weeks after Zolf had joined this little party, the three of them were sitting at a low table playing poker. Carter was already drunk and had draped himself over Wilde, who tolerated the contact without breaking his perfect posture. Wilde looked at his cards, then at Zolf, eyes narrowing.

“Two pair.” he said carefully.

“E’s bluffing!” slurred Carter, who was craning his neck trying to get a peek at Wilde’s cards.

“Can you even read these right now? For that matter, how are you still awake? You’ve drunk enough to paralyze a horse.”

Wilde pulled his cards away from Carter, holding them out of his reach as he tried to grab at them. Zolf looked between the two of them, then at his own cards. Carter probably could read Wilde’s hand, drunk as he was, but the issue was whether Zolf could trust him. He was just as likely to be messing with Zolf as he was messing with Wilde.

They continued playing. Wilde had been bluffing, and Zolf swore at Carter for messing him up. Carter just grinned and cackled, clearly pleased with the chaos he had caused.

Just as Wilde was dealing a new round, the innkeep came into the room and gestured for him, speaking in Japanese. They exchanged words for a moment before Wilde nodded and turned to Zolf.

“We’ve got news from the Harlequins. This shouldn’t take long.”

Wilde stood up and extracted himself from Carter, who pouted at him and whined a little bit. Wilde navigated Carter over to Zolf and unceremoniously dropped him on the dwarf.

“Your turn. Watch he doesn’t vomit on you, and keep your cards hidden.”

Wilde gave them a nod, then followed the innkeeper out of the room.

Carter was like a weighted blanket that wouldn’t stop talking. He had draped himself across Zolf’s lap and was idly messing with the plaits in his beard, twisting and untwisting the strands. Zolf generally didn’t tolerate this when Carter was sober, but he was in a good mood that evening. Carter was telling him for the fifth time about how he had definitely robbed a pyramid and it would’ve been fine if he hadn’t fallen down the hole and got stuck. Zolf grinned when he got to the part about Sasha. He could imagine her so well, black hair and dark eyes, looking down on Carter with professional disdain. He missed her so much.

Carter was just getting to the part with Wilde- “And there he was, absolutely gorgeous dipshit that he is, totally checking me out and he cannot deny that, I was there, I saw it with my own eyes,”- when the man in question returned to the room.

“Sober him up. We need to talk. Meet me in my office.” Wilde said to Zolf, then left down the hallway towards their rooms.

“Wha’s he on about- Aargh!” Carter leapt out of Zolf’s lap as freezing cold water cascaded down over them. “Oh gods, why would you _do_ that?”

Zolf stood up and pushed Carter towards Wilde’s office, the latter complaining loudly as they went. He snagged a pair of towels from the bathroom and handed Carter one, then grabbed a third so they could sit on Wilde’s bed without soaking it.

Wilde was sitting at his desk when they arrived, reading over a piece of paper. He glanced up as Zolf and Carter walked in, still dripping wet. If he was bothered, he didn’t say anything. He just gestured to the bed and turned his chair to face them. Carter had finally shut up, having noticed the stern and serious look on Wilde’s face.

“I’ve just received this from Curie. The situation in London has escalated much further than we had anticipated, and there’s something new happening as well.”

Wilde handed them the paper, a transcription of a Sending. It detailed how London had fallen, and that the riots everywhere else were getting worse. The Harlequins had begun evacuations, sending people south to Africa when they’d stumbled upon something weird. They had thought it was a strange plague at first. Prominent blue veins appeared on the skin of the affected, but they didn’t seem sick. Just different, wrong. Harlequin bases in France and Belgium had been infiltrated by these blue-veined people, who seemed to be looking for information and more people to infect when they weren’t causing general chaos.

Curie had pulled the majority of her forces south to Greece, trying to evacuate as many people as possible while avoiding the infected areas. The Harlequins had learned that the veins showed up within a week of infection, and a quarantine period of 7 days would reliably reveal whether or not a person was infected. They still had no idea how the infection was transmitted, but promised to send on information if they made any new discoveries.

 _Trust no one_ , the message ended. It held a finality of sorts. This wasn’t senseless riots or a simple infiltration, this was something none of them were equipped to deal with. The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife.

Wilde spoke up after they had finished reading the message.

“We’ll be implementing some new protocols. Someone needs to be here at all times, we can’t leave this place unguarded. Anyone comes in from the outside, they have to stay in the cell for 7 days. Even us. Until we know how this spreads, avoid touching anyone while you’re out on missions.” Wilde gave a deep sigh. “This will be difficult, and it will slow things down considerably, but we need to take the necessary precautions.”

Carter’s eyebrows were furrowed and his leg was bouncing nervously. Zolf put a hand on his shoulder and he didn’t react to it, just kept staring down at the paper in his hands.

“You’re going to be fine. We’re all going to be fine. Because we’re going to be smart and we’re going to be careful.” Zolf said, looking between Wilde and Carter.

He stood up and pulled his two companions into a rough hug. Carter melted the way Carter always melted into a hug, shoulders slumping and tucking himself into Zolf’s embrace. Wilde was stiff and awkward, it was rare that he relaxed these days, even around them.

“We’re not going to be able to do this much longer.” said Wilde, always one to ruin the mood.

“All the more reason to do it now.” Zolf squeezed Wilde tighter, and he groaned as Zolf felt his shoulders click.

They were going to be fine. Zolf may not have believed it, exactly. But he had hope, and hope was the thing that kept him going. Hope and bards and thieves and card games and memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, writing this: hey wouldn't it be funny if carter walked in and kissed Wilde on the cheek and was like hey babe im home I got you a present. and zolf was like are you guys a thing? and wilde was like no, he's just Like That.
> 
> anyway clingy carter is my new favourite thing


	5. Trust and Talismans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilde entrusts something to Zolf.

**Zolf**

A few days after Curie’s message had arrived, Zolf was preparing lunch for himself and Wilde. He would have made something for Carter too, but the archaeologist had sided with the inn’s chef against him and Zolf had gone on strike, refusing to cook for either of them. Which they were infuriatingly fine with, despite Zolf’s insistence that his soup was good, dammit.

Wilde looked up from his paperwork as Zolf came in.

“Oh good, I wanted to speak with you.”

Wilde cleared a spot on his desk for the tray Zolf was carrying, then did something extremely unusual. He set his paperwork aside and turned to face the dwarf, who had sat in his standard place on the edge of Wilde’s bed.

“Zolf, I want to ask you a... a favour. You obviously have no obligation to do this, but I’m asking you because you are the person I trust most in the world right now.”

Wilde reached into his pocket and removed a small metal key with a glint of magic around it. He looked at it for a moment, turning it in his fingers, before returning his gaze to Zolf.

“This is the key to the anti-magic shackles I’m wearing. I’ve been keeping it on my person ever since they were put on, but I’m getting worried about something happening to it. I don’t want to have it on me and I don’t want to leave it unattended. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind keeping it for me?”

Wilde’s expression was slightly guarded, but Zolf could see the fear in it. He knew what Wilde was afraid of. He’d heard the bard screaming and whimpering in the night, had sat by him and held him until the nightmares passed. The cuffs were protecting him from an enemy that had hurt him, hurt his team, nearly killed him and would probably keep trying the second they were removed. And here he was entrusting Zolf with that protection. Quite literally placing his life in the dwarf’s hands.

“Of course I will.”

Zolf reached out and took the key from Wilde, and he let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Thank you, Zolf. It’s quite the relief, knowing that’s in safe hands. Does it count as superstitious if it’s actually protecting me?” Wilde attempted a short laugh, it came out stressed and slightly too high-pitched.

Zolf knotted a length of cord around the key and put it around his neck, slipping it beneath his shirt.

“I know a lot about superstitions, being a sailor and all. They’re not real in the real sense, but they’re there to make you feel a bit better about the world and maybe that’s what matters.” Zolf pulled Wilde into a hug. “I’ll keep this safe for you and when this war’s over I’ll give it back and you can take those things off.”

A shudder ran down Wilde’s back, and he leaned into Zolf’s embrace.

“I’m not sure I could handle that. I guess they’re like a talisman now. Keeping me safe. Reminds me of Grizzop. Feels like wherever he is, he’s got Artemis watching over me.” Wilde’s voice shook slightly, choking back tears.

“Sounds like that makes you feel better about the world. That means its working.”

Zolf released Wilde and stepped back to look at him. The bard had tears in his eyes and a soft smile on his lips.

“Thank you, Zolf. Really, this... this means a lot to me.” Wilde sniffled a bit, then wiped the tears from his eyes.

“You’re welcome. And you can go a bit easier on yourself. Look, you’ve got Grizzop and Artemis and me in your corner. Probably have to flip a coin for Carter, but if you give him a scratch behind the ears he’ll come over to our side.”

Wilde burst out laughing then immediately covered his mouth.

“Oh gods, he’ll kill you if he finds out you said that.”

Zolf grinned and slapped Wilde on the back.

“Oh come on, I can take him. Now eat your lunch before it gets too cold.”

They settled back into their seats, attention returning to the abandoned meal. Zolf felt the cool weight of the key settle against his skin, a reminder of just how far this unlikely friendship had progressed, and smiled to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't actually decide on doing this until I'd come up with some ideas for one of the next fics I'm writing, which I won't discuss here. I like the idea of something thats a symbol of trust but also could have serious ramifications if it fell into the wrong hands.


	6. Infatuation and Frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilde finds himself growing closer and closer to Zolf, and realizes how difficult it is to love someone during a war.

**Wilde**

Falling in love with Zolf was easy.

It was the way he brought Wilde meals when he forgot to eat, told him to sleep when he overworked himself. It was the way he grumbled when Wilde made him get out of his room and join him in his office, the way he begrudgingly acquiesced but gradually brightened up in the bard’s presence. The way he kept trying to cook for the team, despite the chef’s disapproval of the cleric being in his kitchen.

It was the way he told Wilde about his past, not romanticizing or demonizing a life of adventure, just telling the stories the way they had happened to him. It was the way he listened to Wilde’s stories, laughing at the good parts and groaning at the puns.

Zolf was rough around the edges but kind, depressed but full of hope. He didn’t pretend to be anything other than himself, and Wilde loved him for it.

* * *

A few days after their arrival in Japan, Wilde had interrupted Zolf while he was unpacking, walking in on the dwarf as he was organizing a considerably large stack of novels. Zolf had shoved them aside at first, muttering something along the lines of “posh idiot wouldn’t get it.”

Wilde had been momentarily offended, as he considered himself open to most literature regardless of quality. So he’d said: “Why don’t you tell me about them and we’ll find out if I _get it_.”

He’d expected the dwarf to kick him out, or maybe throw a book at him. Instead, Zolf gave him a look then launched into a summary of the most recent Harrison Campbell novel. And Wilde sat, enraptured, for the next three hours while Zolf told him all about Jennifer and her paramours, often interrupting himself with a “wait, no, let me go back. to-” or a “to get the full context, I’ll have to tell you about-”. Wilde had not interrupted, nodding and gesturing for more at the appropriate points.

There was something so amazing about just listening to a person talk about what they love. Wilde didn’t know if he had been in love with Zolf then, but the way his eyes lit up as he spoke a portrait of yet another swashbuckling hero swooping in to save the protagonist were burned into Wilde’s mind.

* * *

Falling in love with Zolf may have been easy, but realizing it came slow.

It was the first solo mission Zolf had taken since Curie’s message had arrived a few weeks before. Wilde had concluded his investigation into Barnes, and Zolf was going to find him and try to bring him onboard. He had packed a rucksack, oiled his joints, suited up and headed for the mainland. It had been raining, but not so hard that the ferry had stopped running. Wilde had watched him leave, hugging Carter before walking out the door, and had felt an unusual pit in his stomach.

He worried about both Zolf and Carter every time they left, of course. They were his team and he cared about them, he wanted them to be safe. But this was different. He knew Zolf could take care of himself, knew he would probably be fine, probably come back in one piece. But as he watched Zolf disappear into the rain, he found that he... missed him. And the pieces began to fall into place.

* * *

Zolf was gone for a week. All of Wilde’s waking hours not spent working- and, to be honest, some of the working ones as well- were spent thinking about him. Thinking about the way his grey eyes lit up when they discussed romance novels. Thinking about the shape of his voice, how it lifted when he was happy or broke when he was sad. Thinking about the dwarf’s melancholy days, and the way Wilde’s heart leapt when he voluntarily left his room to join Wilde for meals.

While Zolf was away, Wilde and Carter were alone in their section of the inn. Wilde had imposed a ban on multiple excursions at once, since they only had one quarantine cell, so the two of them were stuck there waiting for the dwarf to come back. The routine had not changed, but Wilde found himself slightly more irritable, more willing to find fault in the archaeologist’s actions.

* * *

On the fifth day since Zolf left, Wilde snapped. Carter hadn’t done anything wrong, really. Just been himself. Lounging in Wilde’s office, on his bed (where Zolf sat). Tossing a coin in the air and catching it, trying to get Wilde’s attention and flirt with him. Wilde hadn’t realized he was so tightly strung until he’d exploded, shouting at Carter to get out of his office and leave him alone. He did realize, a moment too late, that he had definitely hurt Carter, and the man had stormed out. He was left alone, stewing in the knowledge that he had absolutely fucked up.

Carter had locked himself in his room. Not unusual behaviour, even he needed to be alone sometimes. But this time Wilde could practically feel the waves of hurt anger radiating from the closed door. He approached slowly, trepidatiously. Not hiding his footsteps. He knocked lightly, and leaned in to hear better when no response came.

“Carter?” Wilde spoke as evenly as he could, just loud enough that the other man could hear him through the door. “Carter, I’m sorry.”

There was a thump as something soft hit the opposite side of the door. At least he wasn’t throwing knives.

“Fuck off!” Carter might have been crying, Wilde couldn’t tell.

“Carter-”

He was cut off by the thud of something hitting the wooden frame of the door. There was the knife.

Wilde sighed, then sat on the floor leaning against the solid portion of the wall. He took a few shaky breaths, then pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his head in them. Pining after a team member was one thing, having one hate him was considerably worse. And he deserved it. He knew how Carter worked, he’d been working with the man for months now. Carter thrived on physical contact, on being clingy and casually affectionate. He was often quite annoying about it, but Wilde had taken comfort in knowing that the man trusted himself and Zolf enough to be so open around them. It had even helped him open up himself, slightly. And he had probably just ruined that trust, ruined their professional and platonic relationship because he was _sad_ about _Zolf_.

After maybe an hour, Carter emerged. He slid open the door, yanked the knife out of the frame, then jumped, startled, when he saw Wilde sitting there.

“Oh, I’m sorry- um,” Wilde stuttered.

He moved to stand, to give Carter the space he must have wanted, when the other man closed the door and sat beside him. Close, but not quite touching.

“Look, Carter- Howard. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, I’ve been a bit out of sorts lately, I... I understand if this changes things, between us I mean.” Wilde looked at his hands, afraid to see Carter’s face.

“I get you’ve been having a rough time. We all have. But you can’t just blow up at people like that. Even if they know you don’t mean it.” Carter wrapped an arm around Wilde’s shoulder, pulling him close. “You gotta say something before whatever’s bothering you gets that bad. If you let that energy build up, it’s bound to come out when you don’t want it to. And I know plenty about bottling up energy.”

Wilde stiffened as Carter hugged him, then took a deep breath and relaxed into his arms.

“I’m sorry.” he murmured into Carter’s sleeve.

“You certainly will be.”

Carter rearranged them so that Wilde was leaning on his chest and his hands were free, producing Wilde’s wallet and beginning to rifle through the contents.

“This is an absolute mess and you should be ashamed of yourself. Ooh, who’s this hunk? _To Oscar Wilde, It Was A Pleasure For You To Meet Me._ Dear gods, who says that kind of thing?”

Wilde tried in vain to snatch wallet back from Carter, but he was quicker.

“Look, I forgot I had that portrait, now give it to me so I can burn it!.”

Carter laughed, holding the wallet higher.

“Remind me to ask you what happened that’s got you so upset about this guy. He’s good looking, I might take this off your hands.”

Carter tucked the portrait of Bertie into his shirt pocket, then proceeded to hold Wilde back while loudly judging the contents and material of the wallet. Eventually they both dissolved into laughter as Carter got onto a tirade about the proper care and keeping of leather and how if Wilde couldn’t take care of a piece of cow skin he probably shouldn’t be running a counterterrorist cell. With the tension eased, Wilde found he could relax. He’d forgotten how nice it was to just spend time with Carter. He had certainly messed up, and would have to work to be better in the future, but he hadn’t broken their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a bit iffy on this one but i refuse to do anything more than basic grammar editing.


	7. Love Is Being Terrified of Losing You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zolf is back, or something that looks like him is. And Wilde can't stop himself from falling even deeper in love.

**Wilde**

Zolf came back a few days later with a tall, muscular Navy man who could have passed for a Harrison Campbell hero. He and Zolf had gone into quarantine, and Wilde and Carter took shifts watching them.

James Barnes was not what Wilde had expected, although he had done a significant amount of research on the man. He was soft-spoken and moved deliberately, holding military poise despite being in a dank cell beneath a Japanese island, far from European waters.

Zolf requested some of his novels be brought down to the cell, and Wilde obliged. He found himself spending more time down there than he needed to, often joining Carter during his shifts. Carter was glad for the company, he hated being stuck on the far side of the cell bars alone, but that wasn’t really the reason Wilde kept returning. Barnes had dived into the novels Zolf had given him, and the pair spent several days having animated discussions about the compatibility of various characters, whether Campbell had realistically depicted piracy or sailing in the Navy, and debating the quality of the early period versus his most recent works.

They couldn’t talk about anything important, of course. And the fear of blue veins hiding just beneath the skin, waiting to reveal themselves was ever present. But Wilde felt so at home during those days spent below the inn. Listening to Zolf and Barnes argue about whether Susan should have chosen Edith or Antonio. Watching the spark of passion in Zolf’s beautiful grey eyes, the eyes Wilde had missed seeing so much.

* * *

On the seventh day of Zolf and Barnes’ quarantine, Wilde had held off from joining Carter in the basement. He told himself it was because he had to catch up on the paperwork that he had neglected. The pile was certainly large enough that it was a reasonable excuse. But it wasn’t the only reason.

It was the last day. One more visual inspection, and then he could let them out. He could properly introduce himself to Barnes and shake his hand. He could get back to work on the next mission. He could hold Zolf again. He could have the dwarf’s company while he worked, enjoy his presence next to him. Place his hand in his own and just hold it, taking comfort in togetherness.

Or, he could not. Or the Zolf in the basement could have blue veins emerging across his skin, could reveal himself to be enemy, not companion. And Wilde would have to kill him. Or rather, Carter would have to kill him. Wilde didn’t have access to his only combat expertise and would be easily overpowered by the dwarf, let alone Barnes. But he would have to watch. To make sure it was done right. To make sure they were dead and gone, bodies burned to ash and dumped in the sea.

That was what Wilde was afraid of. Why he didn’t go to the cell until it was time for the final inspection. Fear pounded in his chest all day, until he had to make his way to the basement for the last step of the protocol.

He held his breath while Zolf and Barnes stripped and spun around, and did not release it until he was satisfied that neither of them displayed blue veins. Carter unlocked the door of the cell and threw it open, gathering Zolf and Barnes into a hug. Barnes looked uncomfortable but went with it, patting Carter awkwardly on the back. They exited the cell, and Wilde stepped forward.

“Carter can show you to your quarters and the baths. We’ll have a debrief when you’re ready.” Wilde spoke professionally, extending a hand to the taller man.

Barnes reached out and took it, shook Wilde’s hand and gave him a curt nod, then followed Carter upstairs. Zolf lingered by the door of the cell for a moment as they left, then turned to Wilde.

“Guess that’s all sorted then. Hope Carter wasn’t too much of a handful while I was gone.”

Zolf flashed a grin at Wilde, then let out a soft “oof” as the bard pulled him into a tight hug. Wilde squeezed for a moment, before letting go and standing back, clearing his throat slightly and glancing down at his feet.

“It’s, ah... It’s good to have you back.” said Wilde sheepishly.

Zolf gave him a grin and a clap on the back, and Wilde’s heart skipped a beat.

“It’s good to be back. Lunch? Or dinner, I have no idea what time it is.”

Wilde followed the dwarf up the stairs, heart pounding with the anxiety that had built up all day. It was really him, he was back and he was safe and Wilde thanked every god he knew the name of that he hadn’t had to lose him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barnes time! I have forgotten mostly everything about Barnes so the characterization will probably be wack, but I'm projecting on all of these boys so hard that I just assume all of the characterization is wack.


	8. Faith and Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilde takes a leap of faith. Zolf learns something he wasn't prepared for.

**Wilde**

It was the evening after Zolf and Barnes had cleared quarantine. Zolf had made dinner for everyone, making Wilde plead his case to the annoyed cook and let him back into the kitchen. They’d had a long discussion while eating, catching Barnes up to speed while Wilde picked his brain for information from Europe. As it turns out, Barnes knew quite a lot more about the situation and the blue-veined people than Wilde’s contacts with the Harlequins did, and they were planning to spend tomorrow comparing notes and going over Wilde’s procedures.

After dinner, Wilde had retreated to his office to continue slogging through his mountain of paperwork. As he worked, the voices in the common room grew louder. Clearly his team was getting into the sake. It sounded like a particularly rowdy game of poker, and Carter sounded quite upset that he was losing. Wilde kept at his work, tuning out and ignoring the nearby ruckus.

Not long after that, Zolf showed up at his door carrying a bottle of sake, a bottle of water and a pair of cups. He let himself in, closing the door behind him and muting the sounds from the common room.

“Alright, Wilde?”

Zolf set down the cups, pouring some sake for himself. He moved to pour some water for Wilde, but the bard stopped him.

“Actually, I think I wouldn’t mind indulging tonight.”

Zolf paused for a moment, then nodded and filled the second cup with sake, handing it to Wilde. He sat on Wilde’s bed and sipped from his own cup.

“Carter lost all his pebbles then asked if we wanted to play strip poker. Not sure if he’s trying to hustle Barnes into going shirtless, and I didn’t really want to find out.” Zolf sighed and leaned back. “Here I was worried I’d come back to find you at each other’s throats.”

Wilde smirked at that.

“I’ve been wrangling Howard Carter longer than you’ve known him, I know how to handle him.”

Wilde cleared his desk and took a sip of sake, then shuddered slightly. He’d forgotten how alcohol burned, and he’d probably completely lost his taste for quality liquors. That was a shame, he’d been quite the connoisseur once.

Zolf raised an eyebrow at the shudder.

“Do I have to worry about you not being able to hold your booze?” he asked, only half joking.

“No, of course not. I’ll be fine. I’ll have you know I could drink you under a table if I wanted to.”

To illustrate his point, Wilde downed his sake and poured himself another cup.

“Right. Like I trust a guy who’s been sober for months to know his limits.” Zolf shook his head, smiling behind his cup. “I’ll prepare Neutralize Poison tomorrow in case you’re still drunk.”

Zolf might have been right. Wilde had only had one drink and he was already feeling buzzed and slightly heady. It was exacerbated by a mild adrenaline rush, the reaction Wilde had to any kind of sensory loss ever since almost dying in Damascus. Usually that was a panic-inducing experience, one that left him huddled in a corner clinging to the cuffs around his ankle. And there was still a hint of anxiety in his chest now, but it felt different today. Kind of like the jitters one gets before asking someone out on a date.

* * *

**Zolf**

If he had noticed something strange about Wilde today, he had chalked it up to anxiety or idiosyncrasy. Zolf was genuinely worried about the man’s ability to hold his alcohol, and was glad he’d brought the water just in case.

Wilde was much more relaxed than usual. He had left his desk to sit with Zolf on the bed, rearranging the paperwork so its surface was completely clear for once. They talked and laughed, falling into an easy rhythm. Zolf had missed this, spending time with Wilde. He’d been so stressed lately, after trying to get through massive storms to various European ports and dodging infected areas, then having to wait a week in the tiny cell isolated from his friends. Barnes was alright, of course, but he wasn’t nearly as familiar or comfortable as Wilde and Carter.

* * *

**Wilde**

One drink became two, became three. Talking became banter, became flirting. The fluid shift from casual to flirtatious was second nature for Wilde. And Zolf was responding to it, laughing at his jokes and trading back puns.

Wilde found himself moving closer, draping his arm around the dwarf’s shoulders and leaning in to him. He may not follow Poseidon anymore but Zolf still smelled of the sea, like salt and sweat and something reminiscent of a grey morning sky over a choppy ocean.

Zolf had stopped talking and was looking at Wilde, presumably waiting for a response. He was beautiful. Stormy grey eyes sat in his rough-skinned face, shining with that subtle light Wilde was so fond of. His hair had been carefully tied back but his beard was unbraided, Carter must have been messing with it earlier. Everything in this moment seemed so perfect, and he did the only thing he could think to do.

Wilde leaned forward and kissed Zolf

* * *

**Zolf**

Wilde was kissing him.

_Wilde was kissing him?!?_

Zolf’s brain short circuited, running through the events of the evening. Wilde had been way more touchy-feely than usual, but that didn’t mean- shit. Shit. This situation was rapidly getting out of hand. How in the hell could this even happen to him? _Quick, Zolf, think._ _What do you do when your best friend, who you are very much NOT interested in sexually or romantically, starts kissing you?_

Zolf pushed Wilde away and punched him in the face.

* * *

**Wilde**

The next thing Wilde knew, he was on the floor and his head was throbbing. Zolf was staring at him in shock, fist still extended.

_Oh no._

_Oh shit._

Wilde was at a loss for words. How had he misread Zolf that badly? How could he let himself get so caught up in his fantasies and not realize that the dwarf was clearly not interested? He’d been so candid about being ace, so trusting, and Wilde had taken that trust and spat on it.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say. He stared at the shock on Zolf’s face until it hurt to look at him anymore. And then he left. He stood up and walked out of the room without saying anything, and did the only thing that made sense in the moment: going to the bar.

* * *

**Zolf**

Wilde had fallen to the floor when Zolf hit him. He could see a bruise forming on the man’s face, he would definitely have a black eye tomorrow. The bard had just sat there on the floor, gaping at him and tentatively feeling where Zolf had decked him. Then he stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Zolf alone on his bed.

Zolf stayed there for a few minutes trying to work out what had just happened. Wilde had kissed him. Why had Wilde kissed him? Was he... no, no that was ridiculous. There’s no way Wilde was attracted to him. Some sick joke? No, Wilde was his friend. He wouldn’t do that.

He kept running over the events of the evening, since coming out of the cell. Wilde had hugged him but that’s not unusual, they’d both gotten much more comfortable with physical contact after living with Carter for months. He’d been normal during dinner, practically interrogating Barnes on the state of Europe. And tonight...

Tonight he’d been drinking. And he’d sat next to Zolf. And put an arm around his shoulder and leaned in close. And started making increasingly dirty innuendos. Zolf cursed his own stupidity. How had he missed it? Wilde had been flirting with him and he hadn’t even noticed, had strung the man along without even realizing. How could he do that, to Oscar Wilde of all people? His best friend, the person who trusted him most in the world? And he had taken that trust and crushed it underfoot, and had punched the man in the face to boot.

Zolf made his way to the back door of the inn. He didn’t see Wilde, and he ignored Carter and Barnes when they asked where he was going. It was raining, it had been raining for almost 16 days now. Zolf didn’t care. He just wanted to be somewhere else, somewhere he wouldn’t have to see Wilde’s bruised face and remember that he had destroyed their friendship in a single act of ignorance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what I wrote this fic for. This is the idea that got me started writing RGQ fanfic. It popped into my head right after Zolf's sexuality was announced: Wilde is in love with Zolf but Zolf doesn't love him back. It's angsty and messy but I promise this one does have a happy ending.


	9. A Good Day for Bad Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilde self-destructs and Carter tries to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains an attempt to use sex as a self-destructive coping mechanism.

**Wilde**

Wilde didn’t know how long he had been at the bar for. There were three empty bottles in front of him, but that didn’t exactly translate to linear time. He stared at them, head pounding and face burning. The innkeeper had asked him what happened, and he had just waved off the question and requested the largest bottle of sake he had.

The bottles were not particularly large, but if Wilde tilted his head he could double them. The walls were swimming in a way that made him feel extremely ill, and he couldn’t figure out why his heart was pounding so hard.

What he did know, was that he had fucked up. He had fucked up so much, and Zolf wouldn’t forgive him like Carter had. Yelling at Carter had been an accident. A moment of tension that he still regrets, still wishes he could change. Kissing Zolf had been on purpose, and no matter how much he hated himself for it he didn’t regret it. It had been a split second of the best kiss in his life. Not because Zolf was a good kisser, the dwarf had frozen up and he should have noticed, damn it. But because it was Zolf he was kissing. Zolf, who he trusted. Who he cared about. Who he didn’t think he could live without. Zolf, who he loved.

Zolf, who probably hated him now. He’d disrespected the cleric’s boundaries, kissed him without asking, and he didn’t regret it. If Zolf let him he would do it again in a heartbeat, professional relationships be damned. Zolf would not let him do it again, that much was clear. From the appalled look on his face to the fist that had connected with Wilde’s own, he had made his feelings on the matter quite obvious.

How could he have been so self centred? He’d thought he was getting better, learning to appreciate people as colleagues and friends and properly show that appreciation. And yet he had only thought about himself, only considered his own feelings without even thinking to ask Zolf about his own. Gods, he was such an asshole. No wonder everyone hated him.

Wilde stood to go to the bar and order another bottle. Or at least he tried to stand. The floor moved out from under him and he might have fallen down if a pair of quick hands hadn’t caught him.

“Ah shit, Wilde. You’re a mess.”

Carter brought Wilde to his feet, holding on to his shoulders when he swayed slightly.

“Mmmmfine,” Wilde slurred, his tongue not quite obeying him anymore.

“Yeah. Cause this is what fine looks like. C’mon, lets get you to bed.”

Carter looped one of Wilde’s arms over his shoulder and held him by the waist, half carrying him back to their rooms. As he carried the drunk bard down the hallway, Wilde froze up, refusing to move any further. He’d left Zolf in his room, and Zolf hated him now.

Carter groaned.

“Come on, man. You gotta work with me here. Just lie down and then I can get you some water.”

Wilde made a sound that might have been a “hnghhnooo” and wriggled out of Carter’s arms. The floor wasn’t moving nearly as much as it had before, and he managed a few unsteady paces before Carter could grab him again.

“What is going on with you? I’m trying to help!”

Carter was holding Wilde’s shoulders, preventing him from swaying, and looking directly into his eyes. The archaeologist also had lovely eyes, bright blue. Nothing like Zolf’s soft grey. But pretty.

Wilde’s mind felt like mush. Zolf already hated him. Maybe he would leave. Maybe he would drown Wilde in a bucket. He’d always wondered if the dwarf would ever follow through on that particular threat. Didn’t matter. Didn’t matter because Zolf hated him, probably as much as he hated himself.

 _What the hell_.

It was a good day for bad decisions. He’d already burned one bridge, why not go for double? Hell, maybe he could find Barnes later and destroy that relationship before it even had a chance to form.

“I’m serious, Wilde, if you don’t lie down I will cast Sleep on you-”

Carter was cut off mid sentence by Wilde leaning forwards and kissing him deeply on the mouth.

* * *

**Carter**

Wilde was a much worse kisser than Carter had been expecting. Probably because he was out-of-his-mind smashed on sake. Carter melted into the kiss for a moment before his brain kickstarted. He gently pushed Wilde back, keeping a grip on the man’s shoulders as he swayed.

“What the hell are you doing?” asked Carter incredulously.

“You talk too mushh.”

Wilde closed the gap between them and kissed him again. He tasted like rural alcohol, which made a lot of sense. Carter pushed him back again, slightly firmer this time.

“Wilde, you’re drunk. Just lie down and go to sleep and you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Although judging by the number of empty bottles that had been sitting in front of the bard and the way his eyes slid in and out of focus, Carter doubted that was true. Wilde scowled at him and tried to wrap his arms around Carter’s waist, only managing to scrabble slightly before losing his grip.

“C’moon, ishn’t thish you’re whole thing”

Wilde’s eyes were fluttering and he was starting to slump in Carter’s grasp.

“Hooking up with barely conscious drunk men is not my thing, especially not when you’re both my friend and my boss.” Carter sighed. “Right, come here.”

He navigated Wilde into the nearest bedroom (Carter’s, actually) and lowered him onto the bed, before grabbing the waste bin from beside the door.

“Car- carta- cah. Whuzzgoinon?” Wilde mumbled.

Carter held out the bin for him, and Wilde promptly vomited into it, then laid back on Carter’s bed looking slightly green.

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”

Carter patted Wilde on the head and left the room. He dropped the vomit-filled bin in the kitchen sink, and when he got back with the bin from Barnes’ room Wilde was out like a light and drooling slightly. Carter just shook his head, looking at his unconscious friend. He was definitely looking forward to hearing Wilde try to explain himself tomorrow.

* * *

**Wilde**

The first thing Wilde was aware of was the ringing in his ears. It was immediately followed by a throbbing pain in his temples, and another slightly below his left eye. Slowly, he became aware of his entire body, which was aching as if he’d tried to run a marathon. He groaned and shifted, wincing as his head pounded, and opened his eyes.

The light filtering in through the window was grey, and diffused by the rain. It was still too bright, and Wilde immediately tried to put a pillow over his face. It was not his pillow. Wilde’s bed had plain white sheets. This was red with gold trim. Gears spun in his mind for a moment before finally catching, and he sat up with a groan to get a good look at the room he was in.

Red sheets, shelves piled with trinkets, an absolute mess. _Carter_. Well, shit.

Memories from the night before started to filter in. He remembered what happened with Zolf perfectly, as much as he wished he didn’t. Everything else was hazy. He’d been drinking. A lot. Definitely way more than he should have, evidenced by the pounding headache. Carter had found him at the bar, and...

Oh no.

Just then, Carter himself opened the door.

“Oh good, you’re awake. How are we feeling?”

Carter was wearing a shit eating grin. He shoved some things around on his desk to clear space for a plate full of scones and handed Wilde a glass of water, before plopping into a chair.

“Um,” Wilde accepted the glass, not sure where to look. “Did I....”

He gestured vaguely at the bed, looking bleakly at Carter. The archaeologist snickered.

“Heh. No. What you did do is got black out drunk, tried to make out with me, then hurled and passed out.” Carter laughed at the stricken look on Wilde’s face. “Oh come on, it wouldn’t have been that bad. I’m a good lay, even if I won’t sleep with my boss when he’s drunk.”

Wilde cringed and looked down at the glass in his hands.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah. Have a scone. How’s your head?” Carter asked, passing Wilde a scone.

“Terrible.” He took a sip of water. “I mean it, I’m sorry. I-”

Carter cut him off.

“Look I don’t know what happened with you last night. Zolf walked off, looked like he was heading to the coast to do that ‘yelling at the sea’ thing he does sometimes. Barnes and I figured you must have had an argument, so he went off to find Zolf and I went off to find you. I’ve got no idea what’s got you all hot and bothered, but it’s probably something you should deal with. Remember what I said about saying something instead of letting it all build up inside you?”

Wilde nodded, still looking at his glass. They sat in silence as he drank more water and Carter ate the other scones. After about a minute, Wilde spoke up nervously.

“Howard... are you angry with me?”

Carter froze mid-bite, then started laughing. After cleaning up the crumbs he’d spat on his desk and Wilde, he managed to calm down enough to speak.

“No, I’m not angry with you. Honestly, I think it’s hilarious. And that you’re an idiot who forgot that you can’t just drink an entire bar after going cold turkey for ages. What were you thinking?”

Carter kept laughing, but Wilde just swallowed and looked away. There was dread building in a pit in his stomach, and Carter’s cheerful words had rung hollow in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the initial idea for this scene was 'wilde gets smashed and sleeps with carter' but then I was like no, that's kind of messed up I'm not going to write Carter going along with that. Then I hit on 'wilde gets smashed and tries to sleep with carter but vomits and passes out, then in the morning carter is like hey heres some water hows that hangover that you probably deserve'


	10. Situation Normal, All Fucked Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnes and Carter deal with the fallout from Zolf and Wilde's falling-out.

**Barnes**

The next several days could only be described as uncomfortable.

Barnes had only known Wilde for a bit over a week, but he could tell the man’s behaviour was off. He had basically locked himself in his office, only leaving to grab food from the kitchen, any time other than when the others were eating meals. And he had been consistently rebuffing Barnes, despite the commander’s insistence that they really should be comparing notes on the situation in Europe. Every time he had knocked on the closed door to Wilde’s office, he had gotten the same reply.

“I’m very busy right now, I’ll deal with that later.”

When he brought up the fact that Wilde had said the exact same sentences eight times a day for the past three days, he didn’t get any response at all.

The only thing worse than having one team member behaving irrationally was having two team members behaving irrationally, and refusing to interact with each other in any way.

A few hours after leaving the card game that night, Zolf had reemerged from the corridor where the bedrooms were and stormed out into the night. Barnes had followed him, but the dwarf had disappeared into the rain and he didn’t know the area well enough to attempt to find him. Over the following days he had become withdrawn and irritable, grumbling at Barnes and snapping at Carter whenever they tried to speak to him.

Barnes had been in plenty of uncomfortable living situations before, and this was hardly the worst, but none of his previous experiences had involved Howard Carter. He could tolerate a supervisor who was isolating himself and clearly continuing a pattern of self-destructive behaviour, and he could tolerate an overly irritable crewmate. He could not tolerate being the only outlet for Carter’s constant need for physical contact.

* * *

The archaeologist (grave robber, really) joined Barnes in the common area as he was puzzling over why Wilde had refused to speak to him yet again. Carter flung himself across Barnes’ lap dramatically and began messing with his hair, which was reaching past his shoulder at this point.

“Baaaaarnes, I’m boooored.” Carter was scowling, not an expression Barnes had seen on him before.

Barnes allowed the man to lie on him until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Why don’t you go bother Wilde?” he asked, pulling Carter out of his lap and into a seated position. Carter responded by leaning into him and beginning to rifle through his pockets, mumbling something Barnes couldn’t make out.

“What was that?”

“I said, Wilde won’t let me into his office. He locked the door.”

Carter was known to play up the whininess when he wanted attention, but this time he seemed genuinely upset. Barnes took his wallet back out of Carter’s hands, replacing it with the pen he had been using earlier.

“What about Zolf, then? He’s around here somewhere.” Barnes suggested.

Carter’s frown deepened. He spun the pen in his fingers a few times, then threw it towards the far side of the room and extracted himself from Barnes, laying down on the floor.

“Zolf’s being a piece of shit. He keeps yelling at me for things that don’t even matter. And he’s locked himself in his room too.”

“That’s not normal for him?” Barnes asked.

He wasn’t sure what to expect from Zolf, the dwarf who’d met him on the Mediterranean and brought him back here had seemed like a completely different person than the one he’d met in Dover.

Carter stopped scowling at the ceiling for a moment so he could raise an eyebrow at Barnes.

“What? No. I mean, he’s got off days, sure, but usually he’s decent. Not mean.”

Carter gave a deep sigh and rolled onto his stomach. Barnes laid an awkward hand on his shoulder, unsure of what to do in this situation.

“I don’t know what’s up with them. I think they might be mad at each other but neither of them will tell me anything. And I get you’re not fond of the whole touching thing but I’ve got to do _something_ or I feel like I’ll go insane.” Carter’s voice broke slightly, and he rolled over again and intertwined Barnes’ fingers with his own.

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”

Carter gave Barnes a _you have got to be kidding me_ look.

“What, going insane? Sure, you have fun with that.”

“No, doing something. You think they’re mad at each other, and they’re clearly not going to sort things out on their own any time soon. So why don’t we speed up the process a little?”

Barnes gave Carter a conspiratorial look, and the grin on the archaeologist’s face could have terrified bank owners everywhere.

“Absolutely. What’s the plan?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: wrote Carter as super clingy and dependent on physical contact  
> also me: ok now let's make barnes touch-averse.
> 
> i don't get deep into their dynamic here but I do have lots of ideas for it that I might write later.


	11. Animosity and Ultimatums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilde and Zolf have been avoiding each other, and Barnes and Carter have had enough.

**Wilde**

Wilde was in his office, working at his desk. He had been in his office, working at his desk, since 3 in the morning, when he had left to grab a bun from the kitchen. The others had been asleep, he had listened at his door for 5 minutes before determining that none of them were up and about.

He was starting to feel nauseous, and the words on the page in front of him had began that familiar dance, the one he’d learned to recognize as a sign that he should probably go to sleep. Wilde shook his head slightly, then squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. Still blurry. He should get another coffee, what time was it? Midafternoon, no, that wouldn’t do. Someone might be in the kitchen, someone would definitely be in the common area. Barnes would be fine, probably, but he really didn’t want to face Carter, and gods forbid he ran into Zolf.

Zolf. Zolf, his colleague. Zolf, his companion. Zolf, his friend. No, not that one anymore. Not since Wilde had fucked up and ruined it. _Stop it, Oscar,_ he tried to tell himself. _Stop thinking about him. It won’t achieve anything useful_.

Wilde slumped and put his head in his hands, then flinched as he put too much pressure on his black eye. Useless indeed. No, not useless. Actively detrimental, that was more accurate. Self centred and uncaring. How absolutely ridiculous it had been to think Zolf loved him, who could possibly love this?

Wilde’s breath quickened as he spiraled, coming out in short bursts as tears welled in his eyes. He squeezed them shut again, trying in vain to keep from crying. Caught in the currents of anxiety and self-hatred, Wilde sank into the deepest abysses of his mind, blind to the outside world.

Blind to the door that opened and the man that stepped through.

Barnes cleared his throat loudly.

“Mr. Wilde.”

Wilde flinched back, startled by the sudden intrusion, and almost fell off of his chair. Barnes was standing in front of his desk. The commander had stiff military posture, as always, shoulders set and arms behind his back. His expression was unreadable, a perfectly neutral pokerface.

“Um.”

It was all Wilde could manage. He just stared up at the man in confusion.

“My apologies for the intrusion, Mr. Wilde, but I have decided that we need to have a conversation.”

“Um, right. Fine, fine.” Wilde tried to warp his expression into something matching Barnes’ impassiveness. “What do you want? Actually, no. How did you get in here? The door was locked.”

“Ah yes, the lock.” The ghost of a smile twitched across Barnes’ lips. “Mr. Carter removed that just before I entered the room.”

Wilde sighed, more at himself than Carter. Of course the experienced thief had unlocked the door, _obviously_. Gods, was there anything he could do right?

Barnes paused for a moment before continuing.

“As for the purpose of my visit,” Barnes’ expression softened slightly, shifting from Stern Naval Commander to Rather Exasperated Gentleman. “You have barely left this room since I arrived. As far as I can tell, you are not eating properly, and you haven’t done anything to treat that bruise. I find this concerning, and Mr. Carter does as well.”

“I said I’m busy.” Wilde countered.

“You’re not busy. You’re engaging in self-destructive behaviours.”

Wilde opened his mouth to protest again, but closed it. He really didn’t have a leg to stand on in this argument, even if the exhaustion didn’t limit his capacity for debate.

“Mr. Wilde, I am going to be blunt. You’re being miserable. Mr. Smith is being miserable. This has the effect of making Mr. Carter and myself miserable. Additionally, Mr. Carter is also making me miserable because he’s upset that his _friends_ won’t interact with him.”

Wilde gave a deep breath and sagged slightly in his chair.

“Then what should I do about it?” he asked, not looking at Barnes.

“You are going to speak to Mr. Smith and come to some kind of arrangement. I know you’ve been avoiding each other, and while I don’t know why, I do know that leaving a wound untreated only allows it to fester.”

Wilde swallowed nervously.

“And what if he won’t talk to me?”

Barnes leaned over Wilde’s desk, forcing the bard to look him in the eyes. The stern, impassive expression was back, and Wilde could imagine it inspiring awe and terror in the minds of his crewmen.

“You misunderstand me, Mr. Wilde. That was not a suggestion. You can have a conversation with Mr. Smith of your own volition, or Carter and I will lock the two of you in the holding cell until some kind of agreement is reached.”

Wilde nodded cautiously, mentally editing his assessment of Barnes’s intimidation ability.

“That won’t be necessary.”

Barnes rearranged his stony face into a smile, which was almost worse.

“Good. You have until tomorrow.”

Barnes turned and walked out of the room, leaving Wilde wondering just what on Earth he was going to say to Zolf.

* * *

**Zolf**

Zolf was staring at the stream of water running from the pump down into the bucket placed beneath it. Poseidon wasn’t listening to him anymore, obviously, but ever since Paris, glaring at running water had become a bit of a habit. Something to do when he was angry, or stressed. Or questioning, or worried. It had been slightly easier, having a god he could yell at. A symbol he could scream his anger and fear into. Someone to ask all of the questions that would never have answers.

He didn’t have that god, that symbol anymore, so he did the next best thing. Which was sitting outside the inn staring daggers at a flow of water as it thinned to a trickle. Zolf sighed and stared down at the bucket. His reflection was marred by ripples caused by raindrops, and there were no revelations hidden beneath the water’s surface. Just his own mistakes.

He hadn’t seen Wilde since... well, since _that_. The bard hadn’t joined them for meals, and Carter had offhandedly mentioned that he’d locked his door. It was a perfectly rational response. Of course he wouldn’t want to come out. Of course he wouldn’t want to see the person who had treated him like shit, had walked all over his feelings and then punched him in the face in a moment of vulnerability.

Of course Wilde hated him now. It was obvious to Zolf. He’d been callous and cruel, and he was lucky the bard hadn’t kicked him out yet. _Maybe I should leave_ , he thought to himself. _Maybe Wilde would be happier if I left._

Zolf’s face twisted into a grimace and he struck the water in the bucket, his fist passing neatly through and hitting the bottom. There were tears pouring from his eyes, obscured by the rain falling on his head. He straightened up, picking up the bucket, and turned to leave. It was getting cold, what with the rain soaking through his clothes. No use staying out here any longer and getting hypothermia.

Carter was waiting by the back door when Zolf came in. He handed the dwarf a towel, then moved to block him when he tried to head towards his room.

“Look, Carter, I’m sorry about earlier. Now just let me-”

Carter moved to block Zolf again, placing a hand on his shoulder. Not quite pushing him back, but firm enough to indicate that Carter meant business.

“That’s not what this is about. Well, it’s a little bit what this is about. But not all of it.” Carter gestured to a nearby chair. “Sit down.”

Zolf sighed and sat, frowning at Carter.

“Fine. Say whatever it is you want to say then leave me a-.”

“Shut up.”

Carter sat across from Zolf, arms crossed and face furious. Zolf started to protest, but Carter cut him off again.

“Shut up and listen. You can’t just waltz around here taking out your issues on everyone else. I know you’ve got it rough, and I’ve seen how hard it is for you to get back up after your bad days. But you can’t keep lashing out at the people who care about you.”

Zolf didn’t want to see the pained expression on Carter’s face, but he couldn’t look away.

“Look, Zolf. I’m just trying to help. I don’t know what went down between you and Wilde but it’s messed you both up and Barnes and I can’t live like this.”

“It’s not- wait, have you seen Wilde?” Zolf couldn’t quite mask the desperation in his voice, the need to know just how badly he had messed up.

“Not since the day after you and Barnes got out of quarantine. I found him at the bar and he was pretty messed up, so I brought him back to my room to sleep it off. But you should talk to him about that.”

Pretty messed up? What was that supposed to mean? Wilde didn’t drink anymore, had Zolf upset him enough that he went on a binge?

“Look, Carter, it’s... it’s complicated.”

Carter stared at him incredulously for a moment before giving a sharp burst of laughter.

“It’s complicated? We’re at war, Zolf. Everything is complicated. Deal with it.”

The last sentence was punctuated by Carter hitting the table beside him and staring directly into Zolf’s face. The dwarf was taken aback, Carter was rarely this forceful.

“I- ah-” was all he could get out before Carter cut him off yet again.

“Let me rephrase. Deal with it or Barnes and I are going to lock you in the basement and _make_ you deal with it.”

There was an odd glint in Carter’s eyes that Zolf was decidedly not fond of.

“You can’t take me.” Zolf crossed his arms, stubborn as ever.

“Oh please, you know I fight dirty. And quit the whole sullen asshole act. Just talk to him.

Zolf opened his mouth to make a retort, then thought better of it. Carter was right, he did need to talk to Wilde, to explain himself. Carter nodded at his silence.

“We’re going to give you two until tomorrow to get your shit together. After that, I make good on my threat. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.”

Carter nodded again, then turned to leave. Zolf reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Wait, Carter. I’m sorry I lashed out at you. That was unfair of me, I shouldn’t have done it and I won’t do it again.”

“I know.” Carter pulled Zolf into a tight hug. “If you do, I’ll steal your Campbell collection and burn all of them.”

He released Zolf and darted towards the kitchen, but not before flashing a cheeky grin. Zolf was left sitting by the back door, wondering if Carter actually was as much of a criminal mastermind as he claimed to be. He stood, shook his head at the archaeologist’s audacity, then headed off in search of Wilde.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> google chrome let me spell like a canadian challenge.
> 
> An important part of my barnes&carter dynamic is the mutual benefit alliance, in which they will work together to reach a shared goal but as soon as that goal is achieved they go back to what's basically a Perry the Platypus and Doofenschmirtz situation in which Carter is a chaotic adhd gremlin and Barnes is just trying to prevent him from doing serious property damage.


	12. Communication and Conclusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zolf and Wilde have a long conversation about mistakes and boundaries, and love and trust.

**Zolf**

Zolf ran into Wilde as he was emerging from the hallway that connected their rooms to the common area. The bard jumped slightly on seeing him, then cleared his throat and glanced to the side. Zolf hadn’t seen him in days, and he looked like he hadn’t been sleeping. The left side of his face was marred by an ugly purple bruise and his eye was partially swelled shut. Zolf cringed at seeing the bruise, remembering how it had felt when his fist connected with Wilde’s face, but steeled himself.

“Wilde.”

“Zolf, um...” The bard trailed off.

Right. Nothing for it but to plow through.

“Did you get the speech too?” Zolf asked, gesturing vaguely towards the bedrooms.

“What? Oh, yes. Barnes spoke to me. I suppose we should... talk.”

“Right. Should we, um, go in your office or something?”

Wilde stiffened slightly when Zolf said that.

“I was going to suggest we find a location that is both private and neutral.” he said carefully.

“Yeah, alright. How about you grab a pair of umbrellas and we can go for a walk?”

“I- yes. That’s an excellent idea. Let’s do that.”

* * *

The countryside of Okinoshima was lovely, despite the downpour. Zolf often found solace walking between the trees, visiting the coast. Today, however, all he could feel was the mounting tension between himself and Wilde. They had been walking for a few minutes now, neither wanting to start the conversation.

After another minute or so, Wilde stopped walking. He took a few deep breaths, before clearing his throat and beginning to speak.

“Zolf, I need to apologize. To you. My actions the other day were completely inappropriate and inexcusable, and I understand if you no longer wish to work with me.”

Zolf could hear the strain in Wilde’s voice, the effort he was putting in to keep his speech even. The bard swallowed nervously and looked at him, unable to hide his apprehension. Zolf’s brow furrowed as he scrutinized the bard.

“Now wait just a darn second. I came out here so I could apologize to you for what I did.”

Wilde stared at Zolf in confusion.

“What? No, Zolf, you haven’t done anything you need to apologize for.”

“Of course I have, I punched you in the face! You don’t get to be all magnanimous and acting like you’re the only one that messed up, ya hypocrite.”

Wilde scowled at the familiar insult, before remembering what they were arguing about.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I completely misread the cues I was getting from you and I kissed you without asking. That was a perfectly reasonable response. I’m the one who did wrong here and I’m the one who needs to apologize.”

Zolf stared at Wilde slack-jawed for a moment, before shaking his head incredulously.

“No, that was not a perfectly reasonable response. A perfectly reasonable response would have been to have a conversation about boundaries and stuff right then and there, not hitting you and then avoiding you for days!”

There were angry tears in Zolf’s eyes. Angry at himself, angry at Wilde. But also sad, upset that his friend had been so willing to take the blame for this entire situation and beat himself up for it.

“Maybe we’re both idiots this time.” Zolf said softly. “I’m sorry I hit you. I didn’t realize you were flirting and it didn’t occur to me to say anything to stop you. It was an impulse reaction and I regretted it the second I realized what had happened.”

Wilde looked down for a moment and took another deep breath.

“I’m sorry I kissed you. I completely misread the situation and I should have remembered that you’ve told me you’re not interested in romantic intimacy. And I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”

Wilde tentatively reached out a hand. Zolf took it and shook it cautiously.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for avoiding you too..” he said sheepishly. “Guess that gets the apologies out of the way, but there’s still something I gotta talk to you about.”

“Of course. Please, go on.” Wilde gestured for him to continue.

Now it was Zolf’s turn to take a deep breath. Every time he’d had this conversation in the past it hadn’t ended well. And sure, this was Wilde, but there was still that fear buried deep in his guts that he would be just as bad as the rest of them.

“Just listen, for a moment, alright? I’ve had a lot of bad experiences with... y’know, people. Relationships. A lot of the time people expect stuff from you, and once they realize you won’t give it to them, they.... Well, they leave. They drop you at the side of the road cause even if you liked them, and even if you wanted to be friends with them, it just wasn’t good enough. And, look, I don’t mind working with you. Hell, I like working with you. And I like talking to you and sitting in your office and playing cards with you. But if you’re going to be... y’know, like _that_ , then I can’t stay here. I can’t lose a friend like that and then have to keep working with them, y’know?

Zolf’s voice broke slightly as he spoke, and he looked up at Wilde with tears threatening to fall from his eyes. Wilde looked horrified, and Zolf prepared for the worst.

“Zolf, I... I had no idea. I’m so sorry that happened to you.” The bard took his hand again, crouching slightly so he could match Zolf’s eyeline. “I will never do that to you. You’re my best friend and the person I trust most in the world, I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Wilde’s eyes dropped, and he looked away from Zolf again.

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, but I am in love with you. And I’m worried that you won’t want to stay here now that you know. I’m worried that you won’t want to continue working with me, or continue being my friend. Your friendship means so much more to me than my romantic feelings, even if I had a chance, but I understand if that makes you uncomfortable and you want to leave.”

Zolf was stunned. Here was someone who knew he was asexual, who knew he didn’t want to be in a romantic relationship. Who had confessed his romantic feelings towards him. And who had told him that his friendship was more important than those feelings, that he wouldn’t leave him behind just because he wanted something Zolf wouldn’t give. The tears that had been gathering in the corners of Zolf’s eyes began to fall and he hugged the bard, pulling his skinny frame tight into his chest.

“Wilde- Oscar. Thank you. You’re my closest friend, and I’ve lost so many. I couldn’t bear losing you too.”

Wilde’s shaky breathing told Zolf that the bard was also crying.

“I- I mean, thank you. Gods, Zolf I was so worried. I was so afraid that you hated me, that I had ruined this, I just...”

He trailed off, sobbing into Zolf’s shoulder. They stood in silence for a moment, surrounded by the rain and the trees, holding each other.

* * *

As they made their way back to the inn, Wilde spoke up again.

“Perhaps it would be reasonable to, um, set some ground rules.” He raised a defensive hand at the dwarf’s scowl. “I’m just saying, rules help sometimes. And we don’t need to go into intricate detail, just basic things. Like, I will do my best not to do anything romantic or sexual that makes you uncomfortable.”

Zolf nodded begrudgingly, the bard did have a point.

“Yeah, alright. And I’ll keep an eye on you and if you start getting flirty again I’ll let you know. In a talking way, not a punching way.” Zolf thought for a moment. “And I won’t be mean about your feelings, cause that’s not fair to you.”

“Oh, um, thank you.”

Wilde dug in his pockets for a notebook before realizing that the rain would ruin it instantly.

“I’ll jot those down later.”

“Right. Don’t go losing them in that mess you call a desk.”

Wilde gave him a look.

“It’s organized, you just don’t know my system.”

“I’ll believe it when you can actually explain that ‘system’.” Zolf flashed him a grin. “Oh, I just thought of something else. No playing favourites. You’re not allowed to go around treating me different that Barnes or Carter, and you’re not allowed to skip out sending me on dangerous missions cause you’re worried I’ll get hurt. We’re still in a war, and we can’t afford that kind of thing messing us up.”

Wilde gave him a serious nod.

“I agree. I won’t let my feelings get in the way of our goals.”

They had almost reached the inn when Wilde stopped Zolf again.

“One more thing before we go back inside. In the interest of full disclosure and fostering trust, I need to tell you that I did get blackout drunk after leaving that night and apparently I made out with Carter. Which may make some things... awkward.”

“Ah, shit. I snapped at him a bunch while I was avoiding you. Gods, I was such an asshole.”

Wilde pinched the bridge of his nose.

“We’re going to have to make it up to him, aren’t we.”

“Yeah. I mean, unless you want to deal with the kind of shit he’ll pull when he’s mad at us.”

“Ugh, _no._ Do you think if I just give him something to tinker with it’ll be fine?”

Zolf laughed and clapped Wilde on the back.

“I think you’re going to be spending every evening for the next month playing cards with us instead of working. Be glad Barnes won’t let him play strip poker.”

Wilde sighed dramatically, but Zolf knew it was mostly an act. The bard couldn’t even hide his smile. Zolf was smiling as well, so happy that he hadn’t lost his friend that he couldn’t contain it, that he didn’t even want to contain it.

They walked back into the inn together, and, for the first time, Zolf realized that he thought of it as home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i, a maybe-aromantic asexual, in love with the idea of a person who was seeking a romantic relationship being cool with a platonic one? yes. am i getting a little bit tired of canonically asexual characters ending up in romantic relationships? kinda yeah. like nothing against the writers doing that or whatever it'd just be nice to have someone say 'let's be friends' and the other person say 'yeah', without being weird about it. 
> 
> not that wilde isnt weird about it, he's still a total drama queen. I think he imagines himself as the second love interest in a romance novel, the one who's known the protagonist since they were kids and always been in love with her but gets overshadowed by the dashing swashbuckler who comes in on a cool big boat. And then he helps the swashbuckler save the protagonist from pirates and something and gives a heartfelt speech at their wedding about how he's so happy for them and its genuine but a little bit bittersweet.   
> Anyway wilde is definitely weird about it but he keeps that private cause he's a decent person and also zolf would make fun of him.


	13. Epilogue: Hope and Bards and Thieves and Card Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zolf and Wilde relax into their new normal, to the relief of Barnes and Carter.

**Barnes**

“I believe that’s my trick.”

Wilde gathered the cards from the centre and placed them neatly at his side, next to the three other stacks he had won that round. He placed down his last card and nodded to Barnes, who was sitting to his left. Barnes sighed and placed down his own last card, and Zolf and Carter followed suit. Zolf gathered up the cards, adding them to his own pile, and marked another win on the small chalkboard they had set up. The current score was Zolf & Wilde: 7, Barnes & Carter: 0.

Barnes gathered up all of the cards and started shuffling while Carter grumbled from his position laying in Wilde’s lap.

“It’s not _fair,_ you should let us win this one.”

Zolf barked out a laugh.

“No way. We’ll play poker tomorrow and you can win then.”

“Ugh. You’re so mean.”

Barnes dealt out the next hand and placed the up card in the centre. Carter reached out to grab at Wilde’s hand, but the bard held his cards out of reach. Zolf and Barnes shared a look and Zolf rolled his eyes exaggeratedly.

“Pass.” The dwarf leaned over to flick Carter on the shoulder. “Your turn to order up. Why do you keep doing that anyway? You know it’s not going to work. If you really want to cheat, then come sit over here. My arms are shorter.”

Carter paused for a moment to inspect the up card and check his own hand, then scowled.

“Pass. And I‘m not cheating. Barnes said I’m not allowed to actually cheat when we’re on the same team. Some bullshit about only wanting to win fairly.”

Zolf raised an eyebrow at Barnes, who only gave a noncommittal shrug. He just preferred a straight game, that was all. Carter resumed ineffectually trying to grab at Wilde’s cards until the bard took his hand and held it.

“I’m just saying, you should go back to being mad at each other, just for like an hour, so me and Barnes can have an advantage.”

Zolf and Wilde shared a look that Barnes couldn’t quite decipher, then the dwarf flashed a crafty grin.

“Hey, Wilde. Heads up.”

A deluge of water materialized above Carter and Wilde and crashed down on them. Zolf held his cards out of the splash radius while cackling madly. Carter scrambled to his feet, swearing, and left to grab towels while Wilde just sat there laughing. Barnes shook his head and moved the rest of the cards away from the spreading puddle. This certainly was a strange, barely functional family that he’d stumbled into. And as loathe as he was to admit it, he was beginning to enjoy the place he’d found in that family.

Carter returned with towels, tossing one to Wilde and using another to mop up the puddle on the floor. Zolf finally stopped cackling and helped him clean up the rest. Eventually they settled back into their places, forming a slightly lopsided circle, and Barnes dealt the next hand. They continued playing, and for the next few hours the war seemed so much further away. As naïve as it was, Barnes found himself thinking that nothing could take this moment of happiness away from them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to end this on a sweet note. It was a lot harder to write than anything else I've done so far, and I'm glad its finished so I can move on to my next idea. Thanks for reading.


End file.
